Millheim Journal. [volume] (Millheim, Pa.) 1876-1984, 1887-06-09
DOING WASHING.

al shall charge srventy-iive cents for thai
Swiss muslin dress, with the lounces ana
lace insertion" said Rosamond Rayiorth, as
she shook out "A white, fluffy mass, and PIN
ned il deity on u line which was stretched
from n silver-birch tree 10 n tall, young
mountain ash. "lt's worth more than that
but these fashionable ladies ARE SO distress
ingly parsimonious in their ideas y
The orange glow of the sunrise was just
tlinging its sheaf of relldening arrows across
the wooded side of Spieeberry Mountains
the birds were whistling their matin songs,
and the hidden waters of Spiceberry Creek
were swirling with merry music around the
gnarled tree-roots and moss-covered bould-
ers that obtrudcd themselves across its cur
rent.
The wild clomatis and rank fox-grapt
vines that had wreathed themselves pictnr'
esquely above the deserted .charcoal-burner'
cabin were futtering their tendrils in the
morning breeze and the fire of dead sticks
WIS tTlthIlIR DIdNtlN uAAAA a. nus "N'>t'
where Miss Rayforth's second tubful OF
clothes was already boiling like witch's
cauldron.
For she and Clara Seton, her roommate
at college, had come up here before the
dawn had unfurled its pearly banners, kin
died their fire and gone bravely 10 work.
Doesn't it seem ridiculous ," said Rosa
mond, rs she sorted out half "A dozen or SO OF
sheer linen pocket handkerchiefs, and
plunged them up and down in the bluing-
pail. "Last night you and | were waltzing
in the ballroom with those two young army
officers this morning we are getting out
our wash. just hand me few of those
clothes-pins, Clara, please How romance
and reality do jostle one another in this
world, to-be-sure These handkerchiefs will
dry directly, the sun touches them, and
then we can have the lines for the large ar
ticles Are you sure the starch isn't lumpy,
Clara Miss Cavendiss is 50 very par
ticular about her lawn wrappers. And
how are the irons heating up ?"
Clara Seton, who had just finished coiling
up her inky-black hair, and had transfixe'l
il with n long shell pin, pecped into an inn
promptu furnace of charcoal that glowed
under the slope of n prodigious rock, before
which half "A dozen hatirons were set on
end"
They'll be in prime order in half an
hour" said she. 'Do you suppose, Rosy,
they'll be there tonight again -
''The fiatirons 90
''No the army officers
"Most likely" said Eosamond, with
clothes-pin in her mouth, as she stood ON
tiptoe To hang ruiiied petticoat 10 the
breeze. Il heard them ask Flora Foster If
we were staying mt the Mountain House
ooh, did you? And what did she say -
.'Shc said she believed we were camping
ont somewhere"
$50 we are, said Clara laughing.
"And she added-the dear gossipy little
Thing that we were artists, who spent
most of our time in Sketching. There, Clara,
the clothes-lines are full nj last. Wen ad-
iourn long enough "drink our cold coffee
and eat some bread and milk. oh yes
we're camping out-thcre can't be any mis-
take about that" she went on, with a iaugh,
rs the two girls sat down in the shade of
the hazel bushes 10 plrtake of their simple
meal. "Bui often wonder what
the Mountain House people wonld say If
they knew that we were the French lam
dresses 10 whom the landlords wife sends
their muslin gowns and Swiss polonaiscs TO
be done up
''What do we care ?'' rctorted Clara, with
n shrug of her shoulders.
Nothing in the world. But isn't it COM
ical, Clara. when one thinks back over it
all +! How we came here with our casels
and cur pllctteS, and our coloring tuhcs,eX
pecting 10 make our fortunes rs artists,
painting woodland scenes on birch-bark,
and reproducing the sunsets on bits of mill
board. And then we discovered that every
farmers daughter in the ncighborhood was
doing the same thing, and that art was at
hopeless discount. And neXt-you remem-
ber Clara-we tried to play the piano for the
dancing, until the colored iiddlers came o.
yer the mountain and underbid us altogeth
er. And we had no money To buy our tick
cts back TO the city, nor TO pay our hotel
bills. until-nntil-one fortunate day the
laundress lost her temper and left at an
hours notice, and helped Mrs. Fitch out
of her dilemma"
"And now," said Clara, owe are making
eight or ten dollars n week"
"Out of the wash-tub," said Rosamond,
blithelv "and boarding ourselves. Oh,
how thankful am that j spent that long,
drearv. dismal winter with old Aunt Abb
gail. in a haunted house where no help
could be induced to stay, and then and there
learned TO wash and iron equal to any hea-
then Chinee -
az believe, Rosamond, that you would
laugh at anything"
'But it is so ridiculous" persisted merry
Rosamond. ''To think of the downfall that
our lofty ideas had. From artist TO washer
woman F! From Prussian blue and Nene-
ton red to indigo bags and starch -
And she jumped up ana ran back 10 the
boiler, which was now spluttering and bub-
bling like some infuriated monster.
"Its boiling over, Clara-it's boiling
over - she cried, in loud, sweet accents.
"Help me off with it--quick or the clothes
will be burned"
"Allow me-" spoke n calm, deep voice
and the next moment the kettle was swung
off the impromtu crane upon the grass be-
low, and Rosamond Rayforth found herself
face to face with Captain Afford, the taller
and handsomcr of the two officers with
whom she had waltzcd the midnight before.
While Harry Drayton, the younger cavalry
man, advanced through the bushes, with
his gun balanced over his shoulder, and the
countenance of one who was sure of wei
come.
$50 this is camp" said he.
eyes" said Rosamond, steeling herself to
the occasion ''this is the camp. Won't